If the post here is protected, it’s probably because I’m ranting about something (read: someone) in my life and am trying to spare feelings. You don’t have to miss out, though. Providing we’re somewhat acquainted (but don’t share DNA), you can ask for the password on my contact page!

King Richard III’s beens found under the asphalt of a fucking car park. Seriously. Look at those words, for Christ’s sake. It’s incredible. Okay, so he wasn’t Britain’s most revered monarch, but if Horrible Histories has taught me anything, it’s that he wasn’t quite the douche history/Shakespeare dictates, and the idea that the location of his burial was somehow lost and tarmaced over is just … madness. Also, am I the only one who thinks it’s kind of awesome that a king died in battle? That he wasn’t huddled in a bunker hundreds of miles away? He didn’t shy from his duty. Yeah, I know our current day princes are in the Forces but … I don’t know. Maybe I’m being unfair, but I find it hard to imagine any contemporary nobility sat stride our modern day equivalent of a horse and galloping into danger. I...

Note the word “nearly”. Got a random DM on Twitter last night from a colleague in PR, asking if I was free for a Top Secret Project™ this morning. I was, so he promptly sent over a code for an XBLA game, instructions to be online for about 8.45am and then casually dropped into conversation a Very Famous Name1. Cue: excitement. I have an odd relationship with celebrity. I don’t care much for it – or them – but this was a name you’d instantly recognise, and one you probably admire. So I said yes and allowed myself to get a bit excited about it all. ‘Course, it all fell apart. These things almost almost do. His People were faffing about with Other People, the selected game changed, then the time, and then the whole thing was eventually scrapped. It’s okay, though. It reminded me of how great things are now, what incredible opportunities...

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